


Keeping in Touch

by lupisashes



Category: Free!
Genre: M/M, Multi, Phone Sex, Polygamy, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-13 09:09:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3375872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lupisashes/pseuds/lupisashes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SouMakoHaru have phone sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keeping in Touch

"Can you hear me now?" 

"I swear to God if you don't shut up, Nanase, I'm going to-"

"We're ready, Haru. When you are." 

Makoto's fidgeting with his phone, hands trembling with excitement and nervousness. He's naked except for Haru's pale blue towel wrapped tight around his waist. Sousuke's in much the same state, his dark towel hanging loose off his hips. Usually the sight of the sharp 'v' that points down to Sousuke's most private parts makes heat settle in the bottom of Makoto's belly, but they're both distracted. They're standing in front of each other, beside their bed, head's bent down as they both watch the green mobile held between them. Watch as the call's timer's seconds pass by one by one, feeling so much longer than they usually do. 

They're listening very closely to the sound of steady breaths coming through the ear pieces each of them wear, to the slight shifts that make Makoto picture Haru laying himself flat, making himself comfortable. Teasing them. They've got ear piece each, Makoto's in and curled around his right, Sousuke's hooked over his left. Makoto doesn't know where he bought them, but Sousuke had managed to find ones that were long enough to sag down to their knees before it connects to his phone. He understands the necessity, and he's glad Sousuke had thought ahead. That he'd been looking forward to this as much as Makoto and Haru (not that he'd said anything of the sort) had. 

Sousuke huffs, grunting, impatient, shifting from foot to foot before he folds well muscled arms across his chest. It makes Makoto smile and catch his blue eyes as they dart up to his own face. He can't help himself, reaching out to cup Sousuke's smooth cheek. His feet move on their own, taking him a step closer, till Makoto's phone is digging into both of their stomachs, Makoto's knuckles pressed hard into a tight abdomen. 

His arms sag, before he's reaching for the hand that's holding Makoto's phone and the elbow of the arm raised so Makoto can stroke Sousuke's face. Sousuke smirks against his thumb as Makoto traces his bottom lip, licking after it and drawing the pad up to his teeth. The sharp press of them makes Makoto gasp. 

"I didn't say you could start." 

Makoto can't help but giggle at the sour look on Sousuke's face, as Haru goes silent once again over the line. He'd be content, knowing he's thrown Sousuke off. They can't seem to help but niggle at each other. 

Sousuke always bites at the bait Haru dangles in front of him, "Hurry the fuck up then, Nanase." His voice needs to speak loud and clear, the little bump of a microphone hanging from Makoto's half of the headphones almost a foot away. 

Haru continues like he hadn't heard him, "Makoto?"

"Yes, Haru?" 

"Touch him."

Makoto knows exactly where he wants to hold first, has been thinking about it all day. Green eyes glide down Sousuke's torso, admiring the well defined lines of his chest and stomach, settling on sharp hip bones. Makoto almost drops the phone in his haste to touch and grab, fumbling until Sousuke's hands appear beneath both of his and catch it. Makoto flushes, scarlet blossoming over his face and neck, before the blooms spread across the top half of his chest. Sousuke's smirking again, when he looks up. He's such a clumsy-

"What happened?" 

Makoto jumps, scarlet darkening to burgundy, "I'm sorry! I nearly dropped the phone!" 

Haru sighs that put-upon sigh that means Makoto's been an idiot but he loves him for it, "Both of you lay down. And," Makoto and Sousuke pause mid-step, knees settled into soft, white sheets, "I know how much you enjoy undressing Yamazaki, Makoto. Keep your towels on."

They'd be a fumbling mess if it weren't for Sousuke's guiding hands. Makoto's nerves are filing away at his brain cells, his excitement making the few left hungover and sluggish as he kneels on the bed across from Sousuke. Their bums sit on top of their heels when they finally settle. Sousuke's fingers are still shaking and it's Makoto's that catch the slipping corners of his towel and keep him covered, as he shuffles forward so their knees interlock. 

The phone's placed very carefully under the pillows, before Sousuke's shrugging the rest of the wire out from between them, hanging it off the outside of his elbow. Then Sousuke's hands are hot, sweaty, but steadying as they cup Makoto's shoulders. 

"Okay. Ready. I'm," Makoto swallows thickly, smiling up at Sousuke as he leans forward, "I'm going to start touching him now." 

"Him, who?" Sousuke's voice is deep, rumbling through Makoto's palms as he presses them flat to his chest. 

"Sousuke." 

It makes Sousuke's smirk return. Makes some of the nerves settle. 

Makoto's skin is starting to feel hot as he slides his palms down. He traces the dips and catches of muscle, appreciates them with the slightest scratch of his blunt nails. Sousuke's stomach flutters against them as two fingers follow the line between his abs, before Makoto's finally holding what he'd originally set out to. They fit in Makoto's hands perfectly. Thumbs tracing the line where torso meets thigh, Makoto marvels. Sousuke's hipbones allow him to tug Sousuke closer with ease, or push him back as he pleases. He's learnt that over time. Makoto takes advantage of it now, pulling so Sousuke shuffles forward, his legs bracketing Makoto's right. 

Their almost chest to chest now. Makoto leans forward, nose digging into the hard flesh of Sousuke's left shoulder before he presses a chaste kiss to the tendons there. He hadn't put on his shoulder brace again, hadn't wanted it to get in the way, but Makoto will be careful. He doesn't want to cause his lover pain, doesn't want Haru to hear him in it either. Neither of them like seeing Sousuke's busted shoulder sore, making him flinch with the slightest of touches and stiff from the ache. Makoto knows Haru will fret in that quiet, self contained way of his, especially because he can't see Sousuke, won't be able to check for himself how their dark haired man is. 

He gasps, when strong hands curl around his wrists. Green meet blue as Sousuke presses Makoto's hands into the middle of his back harder, making him arch against Makoto. His shoulders strain, though there is some obvious slack in his right one, as his chest puffs out. He presses against Makoto's as he slides the brunette's hands back down so they're rested on his towel covered butt. Sousuke digs Makoto's fingers into the firm flesh. Makoto's skin burns.

He leans in close, breath ghosting over Makoto's cheek as he says, "Nanase, Makoto's thinking again."

"Hn." Makoto can hear the gears turning in Haru's head. 

"I think he needs more direction." 

Haru doesn't make a sound, except for his breathing. It's still steady, and he even as the moment drags into two then three, Makoto knows he's listening carefully. This entire escapade was Makoto's suggestion, but both Sousuke and himself could tell how interested Haru had been with the idea. It had been a pleasant surprise how both his boys' ears had perked up whilst he'd stuttered it out. So he doesn't think Haru's bored. Doesn't think Sousuke will get annoyed. They're all new to this and patience is something they're all going to have to have.

They're still for a few long seconds more before Sousuke wriggles against Makoto's hands, making them flex in his grip. Makoto reasons that Haru's already given him his orders, he doesn't need any others. And it's hot. Sousuke's so squirmy when he's in another's embrace, always flexing and arching into the touches bestowed on every part of him. Makoto squeezes the rounds of his ass firmly, pushing Sousuke's hands away before he drags his hands back up, nails catching on the edge of the towel. 

He takes a few long minutes just mapping Sousuke out, recalling each muscle and how they should feel against his finger tips, his palms. They've done this before. Makoto isn't sure why he was so nervous. Soon he's smiling, nuzzling against Sousuke's hot skin as his hands continue down his thighs, ignoring the slowly growing bulge in the front of the towel.

He trails one hand higher than the other, delighting in the slow exhale Sousuke forces out of his lips, as he traces the line of Sousuke's spine right up to the base of his neck. Sousuke's hands are back on his shoulders, kneading away at the muscles there. Makoto rubs his cheek against Sousuke's left breast. Opens his mouth, breathes hot hot air over a hardening nipple.

"Use your mouth. But not on Yamazaki's lips."

Makoto doesn't hesitate to seal his lips over that same nipple. He delights in the high, soft keen Sousuke releases, long fingers burying themselves in dark brown hair. They tug softly, prompting Makoto to do the same with his teeth, his hands smoothing up Sousuke's front until one hand is tweaking his other nipple in time to his hard sucks and licks. 

He licks up to Sousuke's shoulder. Sucking soft kisses against the skin there, trailing up, then along one prominent collarbone. Makoto can't help himself, as he watches Sousuke's Adam's apple bob on a gulp, his body straining towards Makoto's, hips to hips. He presses an opened mouth kisses to Sousuke's neck, nips as his pulse as it races under his skin, cries out against the underside of his chin when Sousuke's fingers fist in his hair and  _tug._

"Kiss me." He growls, one hand curling around Makoto's jaw.

Makoto hears the stutter in Haru's breathing more than he feels his own. It makes his skin tingle, makes his chest swell, even as he fights to resist. Because Sousuke's mouth is  _right there._ They're breathing the same humid air, lips bare millimetres away from touching, open and gasping. Because he wants to, but Haru's told him no. Makoto  _aches_ to. Wants to feel Sousuke's tongue lapping at his own, tracing his teeth and mapping the roof of Makoto's mouth. They usually start like this, it's Haru that prefers careful touches first. 

"Oh God, please." Makoto's hands frame Sousuke's face, his fingers tickling at the earpiece, "Haru-"

"Not yet. Keep going." 

Makoto does what he can, lips closing around Sousuke's chin, following the line up to his ear. He sucks at the lobe, huffs and groans when Sousuke mimics him, biting down on it and tugging a moment later. His hands are all over Sousuke - his shoulders, his back, neck, chest, thighs. He can't keep track of Sousuke's his head tipping back as Sousuke takes his turn to lavish Makoto's neck with attention. 

Then his lips are gone and there is a sharp crackle that makes Makoto wince, almost wet in his ear. Sousuke's tongue laps lightly every few strokes against his collarbone. A frame around something small, dark and hard against him. 

Haru's voice is laced with confusion, wary and conflicted, in his ear, "What are you doing?" 

Makoto can't help but snicker, fingers carding fondly through Sousuke's short hair as he smirks up at him, eyes sparkling playfully. 

"He's licking you, Haru." He says, as evenly as he can. 

"He is not."

The brunette flinches so hard he nearly whacks his head against Sousuke's, as the microphone disappears behind his lips. 

Haru - he doesn't swear. But Makoto can tell from the tone of his huff that he's not pleased. Sousuke knows that too, one eye closed against his own assault but still crinkled smugly at their corners. He continues to lap at it and Makoto's starting to worry that he might electrocute himself, if not break the mic...

"Stop it, Yamazaki! I can't hear  _anything._ " 

Sousuke releases the little black box. 

"Gonna let me kiss him?" 

Makoto shakes his head, already leaning forward, lips pursed before Haru can surrender and huff out a displeased, "Fine."

It's a relief though, having Sousuke's lips against his. His hands holding Makoto's jaw, the back of his head as they work against each other. They're not being very quiet, their movements graceless as Makoto's hands find Sousuke's hipbones again and them them both up onto their knees. Sousuke moans, a wet smack punctuating it as they both draw away, breathing deep, foreheads pressed together.

"A-Again."

They oblige. 

* * *

 

"Is he still talking?" 

Makoto doesn't reply, too caught in the way Sousuke's face goes slack with each come hither stroke of his fingers against his prostate. Sousuke's on his back, legs spread, his feet planted on either side of Makoto's broad shoulders, toes twitching and curling in the sheets. He's panting hard, voice stuttering out long groans as Makoto stretches him. 

He is though. Talking. Muttering to himself in that adorable way that makes Makoto squirm and rut against the bedsheets. 

"Shut  _up_ , Nanase! You've had his finger's up your ass before, you try shutting -  _fuck_ , Makoto. Oh shit. Oh  _shit shit shit,_ " Makoto edges that third finger in beside the other two gentle, slowly. He presses a kiss to one of Sousuke's knees. Sousuke can't seem to help himself, the words falling from his lips in a pulsing wave that makes him rock down with Makoto's fingers, "Press a little harder, just-"

Sousuke strains up off the bed when he does, his hips surging down against Makoto's fingers. His cock juts stiff, glistening, up from a dark patch of curls. Makoto licks the tip, tonguing the slit. It makes Sousuke squirm, makes him  _whimper_  when Makoto takes him in his mouth and sucks hard. It's messy, saliva gathering on his chin as he bobs his head, nosier than he usually attempts to be, for Haru's benefit.  

He hums, eyes never leaving Sousuke's face. 

"Don't cum." Haru says, "don't. Makoto needs to be inside you."

"Then he better hurry up!" 

Makoto bobs his head, once, twice, thrice more before he's sitting back and reaching for the lube again. Sousuke lays still and just breathes. His chest heaves. His lungs working extra hard to get air into him. Makoto knows he's starting to calm when he starts fidgeting with the sheets, before his arms are up and his own hands are clutching at his own hair. 

"What does he look like, Makoto?" 

Makoto smiles, sighing as he dribbles the lube over his own dick. He gasps, licking his lips as he strokes himself, spreading it, letting Sousuke cool down before they start up again. 

"Beautiful, Haru. Like you've drawn." He squeezes one of Sousuke's knees fondly, "Sousuke's hair's a mess and he's all red. His face, his chest - you know how he gets. He's laying on his back. His legs are propped up on either side of me - I - I might have gotten a bit too excited earlier. He's got hickeys all over the inside of his thighs." Both Sousuke and Haru exhale slowly at that whilst Makoto's cheeks are dusted with the lightest of pinks, "I don't know if you can hear him but Sousuke's breathing really, really hard."

"I can. A bit." 

"Good. Next time we'll give Sousuke the mic though. I'm much louder than him and you don't get to enjoy his noises properly when you can't hear them." Haru doesn't reply, but Makoto can hear shifting. Can hear the popped cap of  _something_ and Makoto's words catch in his throat. Both Sousuke and Makoto seem to have been put on pause, their breathes held, their hands, twitching toes, their  _hearts_  still as they strain to hear every little pin drop that might sound from Haru's end of the call. 

"H-Haru, are you touching yourself?" Makoto's sure he can hear the squish of Haru's hand, slow, but steady. 

"What are you using? All our lube's here." 

Haru's voice is soft, his words stuttering just slightly, "Your cream. It smells like you." 

Makoto finds the way Sousuke's cheeks and nose colour bright pink cute. He smiles, eternally fond of his two boys. He loves them so, so much. Especially when they're like this, soft and pliable and open to each other. He wishes Haru was right there with them in the bed so he could kiss him, wishes he was there so Makoto could watch him kiss Sousuke. 

Makoto whimpers, "Haru?"

Haru exhales slowly, his strokes speeding up the slightest bit, "I-Inside him." Makoto can practically see him bite his lip. 

"Finally," Sousuke says, shifting down, lifting his hips so Makoto can quickly stuff another pillow under Sousuke's hips. 

No matter how many times they do this, Makoto can't help but feel a full body shudder quake through him when he's encased in Sousuke, deep as he can go. This time is no different as he slowly sheathes himself, Sousuke's knees clinging to his sides, his heels digging into the top of his bum, almost painful. Sousuke's face is doing that soft, melty thing again, and Makoto doesn't bother attempting to stop himself from kissing his slack mouth. Sousuke almost knocks the earpiece out of Makoto's ear when he hurriedly grasps at the sides of Makoto's face, making them both snicker quietly to each other, as Makoto takes a moment to fix it. 

Then Makoto rocks his hips, gentle and slow. He's testing, despite knowing that Sousuke can take anything he could possible dish out and more. But Makoto's a romantic at heart, careful as well, and he likes to work up to a grueling pace, likes to make sure Sousuke's properly stretched out. He likes taking the first few minutes to watch and catalogue, feel the way Sousuke's muscles bunch and relax under his hands, the way his thighs flex at his hips, the way his back arches and twists as Makoto's thrusts grow shallow and swifter. 

Sousuke grunts, twisting his head away so he can pant. The mic's sitting between his collarbones. Makoto's sure Haru can hear him perfectly, the way his voice lilts when Makoto tilts his hips just right, the way he gasps for more air when Makoto starts to stroke him in tandem to his thrusts, hips slapping against Sousuke's rear.

"Oh, Sousuke," He gasps, burying his face in Sousuke's neck as he cups the tops of his shoulders with his hands, holding him in place, "Sousuke, Sousuke,  _Sousuke_."

"How does he feel, Yamazaki?" 

Sousuke only lets out a long, loud keen, his head tipped back into the sheets, throat bare and on display. Makoto immediately dives down to nip and suck at the skin, even as Sousuke's hands clutch at Makoto's hair and wrapped around his torso, scrabbling at his back. He holds onto Makoto tight, squashing their heaving chests together, sticky with sweat. Makoto nips at Sousuke's chin. 

"You're not helping," Haru pants out, the phone line crackling as he breathes out hard against the receiver, "How does he feel?"

Makoto slows his hips, sitting up so he's arms are braced on either side of Sousuke's biceps.  He grinds down into Sousuke with every thrust, shifting forward slightly, lifting Sousuke's hips so he's leant against Makoto's knees. 

"He's - He's big," Sousuke eventually pants, hands sliding around and down to tweak at Makoto's nipples, "Like always. He's a fucking tease too."

"Is he touching you yet?" 

"Are you fucking serious?"

Makoto can't help but laugh, breatheless, gasping into a groan as he slams his hips against Sousuke's backside. Sousuke throws his head back, hands spasming at Makoto's sides. He doesn't relent this time, the bed creaking frantically beneath them. 

"Are you close, Haru?" Makoto eventually asks, throat dry and sore. He'll need to get them both a drink before they clean up. 

The very quiet moan Haru lets loose makes both Makoto and Sousuke shiver. It's good. They're all on basically the same page. It's just like Makoto had wanted, just like they'd agreed to try for. 

They don't last long after that. It feels like a few bare moments have passed, filled with gasps and swearing and the sharp slap of flesh to flesh. Makoto and Sousuke can hear the little whines Haru's voice tapers off into whilst he breathes, the closer he comes to his finish. Makoto takes Sousuke in hand and starts to stroke him, graceless and perhaps a bit too tight. All Makoto knows is that Sousuke's bucking into him, surging up into his fist before he pushes down on Makoto's cock. 

Sousuke cums with a choked gasp, his hips shuddering up into Makoto's hand. He's clutching at the sheets so tight his knuckles are white, his legs leaving imprints around Makoto's waist. His cum covers Makoto's still stroking hand and his own stomach. 

"F-Feed it to him." 

Oh God. 

Makoto can't help but whimper at that. It's something Haru's always been fond of doing and Sousuke acts out a perfect reflection of it as he sluggishly skims his middle and index fingers through the mess on his stomach and lifts his hand to Makoto's mouth. Makoto misses the first try, smearing the cum across his lips and cheek, flushing dark red as Sousuke smirks up at him. He bucks his hips helplessly, his whimpers skewered by Sousuke's fingers in his mouth. 

"How - what-"

"He's sucking on them," Sousuke pants, still rolling his hips against Makoto. He's becoming over sensitive, his eyes blinking closed every couple of thrusts, "Fuck - he's  _biting_  them-"

Haru falls a mere second before Makoto does, his inhale bitten in half as he breaks apart silently. Makoto's vision whites out, his whole body shuddering with a cry as he cums. He bucks helplessly against Sousuke, falling on top of him, driving what little air he'd had left in his lungs out against Sousuke's shoulder. Sousuke rubs his back, murmuring to him as he floats.

They stay quiet, basking in the warmth of each other. Haru's breathing's deep and slow to calm. He sounds sleepy when he sighs. 

"You asshole," Sousuke eventually slurs, "I need that lotion." 

"I got you a spare."

"You know I don't like that brand."

Makoto sighs, a smile tugging at his lips as he listens. His heart swells, a laugh bubbling out of his throat as Haru and Sousuke continue to arguing about why each of them should be thankful they haven't laced the other's food with laxatives. 

They go quiet, Sousuke's eyes meeting Makoto's as he says fondly, "Thank you. Both of you."

He closes his eyes, snuggling up to Sousuke's chest. Sousuke's fingers find his nape and tickle at his hairline. He wishes Haru was here to snuggle with as well. Wants to have both of his boys on either side of him, a cocoon of warmth and belonging that would make his already deep sleeps that much more comfortable and welcoming. 

"Hurry up and get back, Nanase." Sousuke says as he shifts.

The earpiece is carefully nudged off Makoto's ear, but he catches Haru's sleepy answer, "My flight is next week."

"Just hurry up." 

Makoto hears his phone flip closed. 

**Author's Note:**

> you'll see exactly how i feel about this on the [original post](http://lupisashes.tumblr.com/post/111182661838/words-3500-characters-soumakoharu-rating-e).
> 
> Still taking short prompts on [my tumblr](http://lupisashes.tumblr.com/ask).


End file.
